


quit me so quickly

by likebrightness



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s02e07, post ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> He’s afraid she hates him, he realizes. And that’s not something he can live with.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	quit me so quickly

-

She does this thing where she doesn’t talk to either of them outside of rehearsal.

Ever.

Derek’s not sure what Jimmy did to deserve it. He actually considers going to drinks with the kid just to find out, but he’s not that desperate to know. They have taken to sharing wry smiles on occasion, but that’s about as much interaction as he can stomach.

With Karen, on the other hand, there’s no interaction. None. She doesn’t _look_ at him if he’s not directing her. They don’t go out for a drink. He doesn’t walk her home. Their eyes never even meet. She never laughs at anything he says—he didn’t realize that was a thing she did, that much, until she stops.

The last time she talked to him, it was less like talking and more like yelling. Apparently Jimmy had been so kind as to let her know what Derek had said to him. There was _who do you think you are?_ and _what gives you the right?_ and _you’re not my boyfriend, Derek_ , which—yeah, thanks for the reminder. And there was a lot of _fuck you_.

He didn’t realize, at the time, that it was going to be the last time she talked to him.

The next day, he goes easy on her, steers clear of her, lets her fume all on her own. She doesn’t talk to him except in response to direction, doesn’t look at him even then. She doesn’t even glare at him. He thinks it’s a good thing, that first day.

But the second day, the third, the second _week_? He would prefer glaring.

-

He thinks it’s going to be a problem when a Times reporter comes in to do a story on them.

He didn’t take into account how well Karen can act.

She is _charming_. She is beautiful and beaming and perfect. She looks at both Derek and Jimmy, _intently_ , when they talk. She laughs at their jokes and puts her hand on their arms. Both men are tripping over themselves to make her smile, and she is—after weeks of blank silence, she smiles at them.

The reporter is eating it up. Derek can only imagine how ridiculous he and Jimmy are going to come out looking in this article. In love with a girl stringing them both along—but who wouldn’t be with the way she lights up the room?

When the reporter is finished, Derek literally asks him three different times if he’s sure. He knows everything is going to go back to—not normal, because it’s _not_ , but—back to whatever they’ve been doing these past few weeks. His heart is racing, he thinks, and he asks one last time just for a few more seconds of Karen smiling at him.

But the reporter _is_ finished, doesn’t need anything else, thanks them, and heads for the elevator. Derek swears he can feel Karen’s whole demeanor change as the elevator doors close.

Jimmy, apparently, doesn’t notice. “Hey, you, uh, wanna grab a drink?”

At least he can still make Karen laugh, though the amount of disdain in it was probably not what he was looking for.

-

Derek considers a grand gesture. He doesn’t know exactly what that would entail, has never been one for declarations, or wooing of any sort, really.

He keeps thinking about that _you’re not my boyfriend_.

It’s not even that he wants to be—or he does, he thinks, honestly he hasn’t actually been someone’s _boyfriend_ in so long he isn’t certain what he thinks of it—but frankly, he just misses being her friend. Forget wanting to kiss her or shag her or take her out to dinner or tuck her hair behind her ear—and yeah, he’s embarrassed to admit it’s something he’s thought about—he wants to talk to her. He wants her to look at him and talk to him and listen to him.

He’s afraid she hates him, he realizes. And that’s not something he can live with.

-

Opening night, he gets her flowers. Puts them in her dressing room after she’s left it for places, deliberates way too long about what to write on the card. In the end it’s just, _You’re a star_.

She lets him hug her after the show, probably only because there are cameras flashing. 

“You were magnificent,” he murmurs into her ear, holds on a little too long.

She smiles, not quite at him, but close enough for everyone else to think it is.

Later, at the cast party, she never looks at him. He knows because he spends his night feeling like a creep for watching her, but watching her anyway. He watches Jimmy buy her a drink, and watches her leave it on the bar without a glance at him.

-

The Saturday matinee, he leaves flowers again. He considers writing _I miss you_ , but then wants to punch himself in the face for it, so. No card this time. They’re tulips, which she said something about loving once. He’d thought they fit her, back then.

Derek’s proud of the show, extremely proud. They put together a lot on a little budget. The cast worked hard and are all _impressive_ , honestly. The fact that Karen can make him believe she’s Amanda, can make _him_ believe, even now, says more about her talent than anything.

Between the Saturday shows they have a mixer of sorts. Julia knows some caterer who donated their services, so they just have to cover the food. And that cost is more than covered by the donors who were willing to pay $200 a ticket to mingle with these future stars. They call it something obnoxious like “Hit it Off with the cast of _Hit List_ ,” but it makes them a chunk of money, so Derek doesn’t complain.

He also doesn’t complain when the ancient donor talking to Karen calls him over. Karen looks so relaxed, if Derek didn’t know better, he’d think she didn’t hate him. He, on the other hand, almost forgets to kiss her cheek hello. It’s just been so long since she’s let him that he’s surprised when she steps in front of him and offers her cheek.

“You were wonderful, darling,” he recovers quickly.

“She was!” the man who called him over exclaims. “Absolutely fantastic!”

Karen gives the not-quite sheepish smile Derek knows is real. She knows she’s good, but is never quite sure how to take the compliment from someone else.

“I’m Chet Wilkins and I was just talking to your star about you!”

Derek shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wilkins, but she’s not my star. She does that all on her own.”

She’s still got that smile, even if she is avoiding his eyes.

“Well, I wondered about the whole _Bombshell_ thing,” Mr. Wilkins says. “You quit and she follows and everything I’m reading says she’s your _muse_!”

“She’s much more than that,” he says. He may be laying it on thick, but it’s also the truth. “I’m grateful she took the risk to be here with us.”

“Everyone knows Derek’s amazingly talented,” Karen says, still focused on Wilkins. “Working with him wasn’t something I wanted to give up.”

“I’m just saying, you two are quite the Fosse-Verdon story!”

Derek isn’t sure if he wants to punch the guy or hug him for striking that chord. Karen laughs, like she should, like Wilkins wanted, but he can barely bring himself to chuckle.

“You gonna write a whole musical about me?” she teases, _finally_ looking at him. She’s goading him to play along, he figures.

“You’re certainly inspiring enough, darling,” he says instead, and something flits through her eyes before she laughs again and changes the subject.

She’s got her hand on this old guy’s arm, is asking him about his favorite musical, and Derek has to excuse himself.

He doesn’t care if it’s three thirty in the afternoon; he gets a scotch. Nurses it as he hovers in the corner feeling _completely_ obnoxious, but feeling sorry for himself even so.

-

Okay, flowers aren’t doing it, apparently. He leaves some for the Saturday night performance, too, and gets nothing.

They’re not performing weekdays, and he’s nice enough to give the cast a couple days off before the next weekend. Which really just means the Sunday matinee is going to be the last time he sees her for a couple days.

He’s feeling desperate.

He’s also feeling creepy, standing in her dressing room with a bouquet, rethinking this entire strategy, waiting for her after the final curtain.

She bursts through the door before he has the chance to talk himself out of it. She’s beaming as she enters—he knows she gets one hell of a performance high, which is half the reason he figured right after the show was the best time to make her talk to him—but the grin drops off her face when she sees him.

The door doesn’t quite slam behind her. She just stands there, hands on her hips.

“Well?”

She looks—not like herself. Not just because she’s glaring, but because her character wears more makeup, has too much product in her hair. She looks _fake_ , and it throws him off for a moment.

“I was a prick,” he says eventually.

She barks out a laugh and sits at the mirror, goes about taking off her makeup.

“I was a prick and I didn’t have any right to behave that way.”

She stands up, but makes no indication that she’s heard him. Instead, she pulls her shirt over her head, goes to hang it on a hanger. It’s her dressing room, sure, but he _knows_ she’s only changing into her own clothes right now to fuck with him.

“Karen,” he says. “Come on, love.”

Her eyes finally meet his. “Come on what? Should I react in a certain way to you saying things I already know?”

“For Christ’s sake, Karen, I’m trying to apologize.”

“So do it.” She levels him with a stare. She standing there in just her bra and her character’s jeans, and she won’t look away.

It’s not like Derek is a guy who doesn’t get upset easily. People are morons, and they piss him off. He usually doesn’t make it to noon without yelling at someone. But still, there’s something about Karen that sets him off, like she knows exactly how to get under his skin. Maybe she doesn’t know, maybe she just _does_ , whether she likes it or not, whether he likes it or not, and he really doesn’t thank you very much, but he can’t stop it.

He can’t stop the way she makes him scoff and roll his eyes, completely exasperated, and almost shout, “I’m sorry I was a goddamn prick; would you please _speak_ to me again?”

“I’m speaking to you right now.”

He puts her flowers down, maybe a touch more violently than intended. “Karen.”

“I am,” she says, and finally puts her own shirt on.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he says. She got him to say sorry but he is _not_ saying he misses her.

“I don’t know what you mean anymore, Derek.” And she actually takes off her pants as she says it. She definitely _does_ know how to get under his skin. “I don’t know if I ever did, given that I never realized you were treating me like your property until Jimmy told me.”

That’s so ridiculous that he sputters. “I wasn’t—what does that even—I do not treat you like property of any sort.”

“I’m not yours to control. You don’t get to pick who I spend time with.”

“I know you’re not. Look that was not the point of—”

She laughs, steps into her jeans. “That wasn’t the point? Keeping me from spending time with Jimmy was not the point of you telling him to stay away?”

“The point was that I wanted you to spend time with _me_.”

Well. It’s the truth, at least.

Karen’s stopped putting on her pants, is just standing there with jeans on but completely undone, button and fly open.

He did want her to spend time with him. He _does_. He just doesn’t know _how_ with her because he’s not used to wanting to spend time with a woman separate from just wanting to _fuck_ her. He doesn’t know how with her because they did spend time together, a lot of time, she was at his apartment more than any woman he’s _dated_ , but she never got a bloody _clue_. She looks like she doesn’t have one now either, all wide-eyed surprise, like it wasn’t obvious that he was pining for her, before anything happened even, but certainly since she stopped talking to him. He’s been _pathetic_ about it, he knows he has, and she sits here and looks surprised that he wants to spend time with her?

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs. “I would just like to be on speaking terms again. So yes, I am sorry for being a prick. Can’t say it won’t happen again, but.”

“You told Jimmy to stay away from me because you wanted to spend time with me?”

He’s rethinking that desire, given how dense she’s being right now. “Nothing else I had done seemed to get it into your head, darling.”

“Nothing else you had done,” she repeats like she’s thinking over the entire time they’ve known each other, trying to figure out what he had done.

“Oh for God’s—Karen. I had _soymilk_ in my refrigerator for you,” he says it slowly, because apparently she needs the emphasis that it’s important.  
She keeps looking at him for a minute. He thinks she expects him to go on, but that’s the most obvious thing he can think of, and if she’s still confused, he can’t help her.

“You never even tried to kiss me,” is what she finally says.

That’s not even true, first of all. But mostly he’s _exhausted_ from this conversation, from the last few weeks.

“When I’m with you, darling, I’m almost always trying _not_ to kiss you.”

Her jaw doesn’t drop, exactly, but her lips part and she takes a deep breath. Lets it out, chews at the corner of her mouth.

Derek chuckles wryly. “You’re not helping.”

Her teeth stop worrying her bottom lip, immediately, and she blushes as she looks away. She seems to remember she never finished putting on her pants, and finally does them up.

“I have to go,” she says, grabbing her purse. She picks up the flowers, too. “I have a thing.”

“Right.” He wonders if maybe he’s just made more of a mess of things. 

“Thanks for the…” she waves the bouquet at him, one hand on the door handle.

He nods and closes his eyes, scrubs a hand through his hair. She still doesn’t leave though, clears her throat instead, which makes him open his eyes to look at her again.

“Um. Call me later?” 

He nods again, quickly. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay.”

He wants to kiss her again.

She leaves.


End file.
